Hints of Things to Come
Already, on the hillside, the first tinges of autumn’s hues whisper from treetops. It’s as if Mother Nature dipped her brush in a pool of watercolor and swept gently across the scene with washes of subtle burgundy and rust.
“Before long,” I thought to myself as I gazed at the sight, “we’ll be seeing the geese head south.”
Most of us here, in my part of the country, would prefer to have summer linger awhile. Autumn, the bridge to winter, can take its time. We’ll gladly revel in the green warmth of summer as long as it chooses to stay.
Nevertheless, the shelves in the shops are beginning to fill with back-to-school gear and merchandise for the football fans. The corn is high, and roadside stands are selling the first of their harvests. The hints are everywhere.
You can feel the mood of it settling on people. Some look ahead with eagerness and excitement. Some with a touch of melancholy, some with dread. But all of us sense that it’s coming.
And it will hold for us whatever we expect, as do all the seasons of our lives. We’ll harvest the crop we planted and tilled and fed.
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